Wish
by Rufi
Summary: Harry is a severly abused child who uses selfharm to assuage his emotional pain. HPDM, HPSS, Slash! If you don't like, don't look!
1. Happy House

Chapter One:

Happy House

The first time he'd cut himself had been when he was six.

It was Dudley's seventh birthday party, and Harry had been beaten for ruining the cake. Uncle Vernon had thrown Harry into his cupboard, ranting about bad blood. Harry had been so mad at the Dursley's that thinking all the bad things he could about them didn't calm his nerves. So, he did the next best thing.

He went through his school bag and found a pair of scissors. They were the ones the school had given him to use for class projects and such. Harry opened the scissors and brought them down across his upturned wrist, hard. He calmed down quickly after releasing all his pent up anger in the one quick movement.

Harry looked down at his wrist, expecting to see a shallow cut at most, and found blood bubbling out of the self inflicted wound. He gasped, but did not move to stop the blood flow. He was mesmerized by it. Harry's gaze followed his blood's slow trail down his thin, boney wrist until a droplet fell onto his blanket. Then another droplet fell next to the first one. He waited for what felt like hours before the final droplet rolled down his wrist and onto his blanket with the others.

He starred at his wrist, wondering if the blood had stopped. Slowly, Harry reached out a finger and touched the blood. The blood felt gooey, barley a liquid, and left a tiny smudge of red on the pad of his index finger.

He wiped the drying blood off on his blanket, causing the wound to open again. He covered his wrist with his right hand and squeezed, praying to God that the bleeding would stop. A few minutes later, when his breathing had slowed, Harry peeled his hand back from his wrist. The bleeding had stopped. He sighed happily. He had been terribly frightened that he would bleed to death. Not that anybody would have noticed if he had died. The Dursley's would have buried him only to keep the smell of death out of their perfect house. The school would think that he had finally been sent off to a school for troubled children, or an insane asylum. It's not like they hadn't been suggesting the Dursley's do so since the first day Harry had started school.

Harry sighed as he packed up his school bag and moved it back into its corner. As he curled up into a ball under his blanket, he thought of what it would be like to be cared for. To be liked. It's what he had wanted for as long as he could remember. He wished he could remember his parents. If he could remember them, he would remember what it felt like to be cared for. Harry fell asleep dreaming, once again, about the happy life he had been neglected.


	2. Wet Dream

Chapter Two:

Wet Dream

It had been ten years since the day Harry had discovered self-inflicted wounds, and he was now thoroughly addicted. The only thing he craved for more than then the brutally calming pain was one Draco Malfoy: the most beautiful being in existence. But, unlike his self injury,

Harry could not have Draco Malfoy, no matter how much he craved for him. Draco would always be his fantasy, and nothing more, for Draco hated Harry with a passion. Draco's malevolence towards Harry was topped only by Harry's desire to see himself in agony. Although, sexual frustration wasn't the kind of agony he had had in mind.

It was hard enough for Harry to concentrate in his classes without Draco smirking on the other side of the room. Draco's smirk always reminded Harry of a wet dream, which always got him hot and bothered. On one similar occasion, Harry had reached into his pants to stroke himself. Luckily, that particular incident had been in History of Magic, and not Potions.

At the present time, Harry didn't mind his Draco obsession. Harry's overactive imagination gave him the most erotic of dreams.

Draco was on top of Harry, licking and biting his way down Harry's chest. Harry moaned rather loudly, arching up into Draco's touch. Draco could be so immensely cruel, but he always made Harry feel good. Too good. He felt as if he was about to explode. Why did Draco have to bite? Couldn't he just nibble? It would certainly make their encounters longer.

Draco finally made his way to Harry's lower stomach, his neck and chin grazing Harry's cock. Harry moaned, barely resisting the urge to thrust upward. Draco looked up at Harry and smirked, causing Harry to moan, once again. At last, Draco licked the tip of Harry's shaft, causing Harry to gasp. Slowly, carefully, Draco took the head of Harry's shaft into his mouth, caressing it gently with his tongue. Harry threw back his head, panting, and moaning softly.

Draco was a cruel and malicious bastard. This was absolute torture! Draco always did this to him. Always, and Harry loved it. It was what he lived for. It was what he dreamed of. It was what he wished would happen in real life. Harry wished Draco would love him this way, but he new it to be impossible. The only thing Malfoy would ever love about Harry was that he was such an easy target for bullying. I don't think one would really call that love.

Draco took Harry's cock fully inside his mouth and sucked, hard. It didn't even take a minute before Harry came, panting Draco's name.

Harry jerked awake, fully aware of his sticky bed sheets and pajamas. He sighed, still panting hard from his dream, and reached for his wand and glasses on the bedside table. Once he had cleaned the sheets and himself up, Harry peeked through the curtains at the clock. He had about an hour left before breakfast. Harry decided to read ahead for his first class of the day, Potions. He didn't want his grade to suffer anymore than usual, and certainly wasn't going to let his Draco obsession cause him to lose yet another thirty house points.

During breakfast that morning, Draco looked over to the Gryffindor table, his gaze eventually landing on Harry, who was staring back. Draco smirked and shook his head. Harry looked down at his plate, feeling his cheeks flush.

Ron looked over at Harry and asked in a worried tone, "What's wrong, mate?" Harry sighed and said in a dejected voice, "Nothing, Ron. Just tired is all." Ron rubbed his back and said sympathetically, "I'm sorry, mate. You can sleep in History of Magic, and I'll ask Hermione if you can copy her notes." Harry smiled meekly at Ron, and mumbled his thanks to both him and Hermione, before he turned his attention back to the Slytherin table.


	3. Potions Class

Chapter Three:

Potions Class

It was Potions class and Harry was having a very hard time concentrating. Draco had decided to sit next to Harry that day. When the class had started to brew their potions, Harry couldn't resist taking a quick peek at Draco's arse. The one quick peek soon turned into several and, only five minutes into the class, Harry was staring at Draco.

Snape noticed.

He stalked over to Harry, robes billowing out behind him, even though he had barely taken five steps. Snape sneered down his hooked nose at Harry. Harry peeked up through his bangs at Snape. "Mr. Potter," Snape hissed, his voice no more than a whisper, "Please concentrate on your potion making, and not Mr. Malfoy."

Harry felt his face grow hot and hung his head low, now miserable. Draco sneered at Harry, mouthing the word "faggot". Harry felt a tear trail down his flushed cheek. He scraped at it furiously with his sleeve, trying his best to concentrate on his potion. The tears kept on falling, trailing down Harry's cheeks and neck. He gave up on the potion all together, and drooped in his chair with his head in his hands.

The tears didn't stop until lunch.

Harry had raced down the hall after Transfiguration, the tears still staining his cheeks. He ran straight to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, slammed himself into the wall and cut, repeatedly, on his upturned fore arm.

Harry whimpered meekly as the blood bubbled up through the new crevices in his skin.

When Harry's blood began pouring over the edge of his arm, dripping slowly onto the floor, staining the puddle he sat in, his tears stopped. He lapped up the blood with his tongue, and then pressed his palm down against the cuts until they stopped bleeding.

Harry slumped down in the puddle, curling his knees up under his chin. He smiled softly to himself before drifting off to sleep.


	4. Broken

Chapter Four:

Broken

Harry awoke to the beautiful sight of Draco Malfoy.

"Hello Potter," Draco said into Harry's ear. Harry, stifling a whimper, looked up at Draco through his eyelashes.

"I had no idea you preferred men over women," Draco said menacingly.

Harry blushed and looked down at his sleeve. It just barley covered the cuts that marred most of his arm. He flicked his wrist twice and held the cuffs of his sleeves to the palm of his hand.

Draco placed a hand under Harry's chin, and tilted Harry's head until he looked Draco in the eyes.

"I want to fuck you," Draco whispered.

Harry felt his sides clench and his cock harden.

"This is a one time only offer, Potter," Draco said, his grip on Harry's chin tightened, "Now or never."

"Now," Harry whispered, tears forming in his eyes, "p-please." The tears spilt over his cheeks.

Draco smirked.

Draco shoved Harry on to the ground, unzipping his pants as Harry struggled to sit up. Draco shoved Harry's head back down, causing little wakes in the puddle. Draco reached around Harry to unzip his pants, yanking them down to pool in the puddle around Harry's knees. Draco took his swollen cock out of his boxers and shoved into Harry's arse.

Harry screamed.

Draco began thrusting in and out of Harry, his hand on the back of Harry's head, shoving Harry's face into the water. Harry couldn't breathe.

Harry coughed as water entered his lungs. He kept coughing, but opening his mouth only made it worse.

Harry struggled to lift his face out of the puddle, getting one gulp of air before his head was shoved back down again.

Harry felt his glasses break, then his nose.

Draco came.

Draco fisted his hand in Harry's hair and pulled his head out of the water. He removed his now limp cock from Harry's arse. Harry bit back a scream.

Draco turned Harry around and shoved him back into the puddle. The back of Harry's head landed on his broken glasses.

Draco stood, straightening out his robes.

"Good-Bye, Potter," Draco sneered as he walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Snape's Intervention

Chapter Five:

Snape's Intervention

Snape had been grading an essay written by a rather ignorant third year Ravenclaw when he heard a knock on his office door.

"Enter," he snapped, wandlessly bending his wards and opening his door to the unexpected and rather unwanted guest.

"Good evening, Professor," his unwanted guest drawled.

"Good evening, Draco," Snape replied.

"I met up with Potter on my way to lunch. We had a rather… interesting intercourse," Draco said, the last word holding an unwarranted amount of venom.

Snape sneered.

"What did you do to him, Draco?" he said monotonously.

"Oh… nothing," Draco droned, "just enough to get him out of," he placed a hand on Snape's chest, "… our way."

"What," Snape spat, vein throbbing in his forehead, "did you do to him?"

"I told you-" Draco started only to be cut off with Snape's forceful question of, "Where is he, then?"

"Why should I-" Draco started once again, although Snape stopped him mid-sentence with his growing impatience.

"Where is he, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape forced out from between clenched teeth.

"It matters not," Draco whispered, pulling Snape's torso flush against his.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do not have time for your-" Snape never got to finish his sentence for Draco forced their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Draco kissed harder when the thin lips beneath his own didn't respond, only to be answered with a forceful shove against his chest.

"Where, Malfoy?" Snape said darkly.

Draco shook his head, his gaze landing on anything but his professor. Tears spattered down the front of his school robes.

"You're trying my patience, Malfoy," Snape whispered harshly.

Draco shuddered.

"Malfoy…" Snape said, his anger increasing with each passing second.

"In… Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Draco whispered, his voice shaky.

Snape turned on his heel and stalked to his office door.

"Leave," he said, holding the door open for Draco. There was no emotion in his voice.

Draco stood, legs unstable underneath his own weight, and walked to the door.

"Good bye, Professor," Draco said, voice cracking on the last word. Tears were still dripping onto his robes.

Snape said nothing.

Once Draco was back into the Slytherin dormitories, he broke down and sobbed. No one was awake to comfort him.

They wouldn't have tried, even if they were awake.

He wished Potter had never existed. It would make his life better, much better. If Potter had never existed, Snape might love him. That was all Draco had ever wanted.


	6. The Rescue

Chapter Six:

The Rescue

Snape found Harry whimpering in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, curled onto a fetal position in a puddle of red tinted water.

He gasped and rushed over to Harry, lifting his slight frame out of the pool of blood. Harry's whimpering turned to groans of agony, so Snape splayed Harry across his torso, kneading small circles in between Harry's shoulder blades. A quiet sniffling replaced the groans, and Snape made low soothing sounds to calm him further.

Harry curled his fists into the fabric of Snape's robes, burying his face into the side of Snape's neck.

Snape shivered, almost aroused by the close contact with Harry. The only thing stopping him being the knowledge that Harry was in pain. A great deal of agony, he suspected, since Malfoy had done a wonderful job tearing Harry to pieces.

Harry's body shuddered and his grip on Snape's robes tightened. He looked up at Snape, bright emerald eyes filled to the brim with tears.

Harry's nose was bloody, broken undoubtedly, and his glasses had been snapped in two. One half of his glasses was lodged into his nose, the other half was in the blood puddle.

"Hello, P-professor," Harry said meekly, the corner of his lips tugging at a smile and one of his eyes twitching.

"Hello, Harry," Snape echoed, a small smile playing at his lips as well.

"I'm s-s-sorry... about all this," Harry whispered, shoulders slumping down a bit more.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault at all," Snape reassured him.

Harry shuddered again, and nuzzled Snape's chest.

"Would you like to come to my chambers, or go to Madam Pomfrey?" Snape asked gently.

"Your chambers," Harry mumbled into Snape's chest.

"Very well, Harry. I shall carry you there," Snape said.

Harry looked up at Snape, mouth open in protest, but Snape was already moving towards the door with Harry in his arms.

Harry fell asleep, curled against Snape's chest, as they made their slow decent to his chambers.


	7. The Guest Room

Chapter Seven:

The Guest Room

When Harry woke up, he had not a scratch or scar on him.

Harry was in a rather large guest bedroom, he guessed, for it was a neutral beige and not all black. The furniture was a light oak and all the accents where white. The room looked like a giant beige bubble, for it was also circular shaped.

Harry looked to the right, seeing a bookshelf filled with books on herbology and potions. Harry pulled a potions book off its shelf and began to read.

About an hour later, Snape entered the room carrying a tray of tea and biscotti. He nodded to Harry, set the tray down on the bedside table, and then left. Not a word had been said.


	8. Guilt

Chapter Eight:

Guilt

After almost two hours of studious reading, Harry decided to get up and find Snape. He felt the need to thank the professor, and he desperately wanted to tell someone of all that had happened in that bathroom. The pain of what Draco had done to him was gnawing away at his insides, but there was also the guilt that came from harming himself.

Even more shameful was the fact that every time the thought of Draco practically raping him appeared in his mind, Harry felt the twinges of arousal slither down his spine and coil in his belly.

"Professor?" Harry called out anxiously as he peered down the hallway, "Professor?" Harry moved slowly out of the guest room, frightened that he might be doing something wrong by leaving the bed. At one end of the hallway was what looked to be a parlor room of some sort, though Harry didn't know for sure, because it was very dimly lit. The rest of the hallway consisted of three doors, one of which, the one at the very end of the hallway, had a yellow glow underneath it.

"Snape must be in there," Harry thought, creeping across the cold dungeon floor on stocking feet. Snape must have removed Harry's robe and shoes before putting him to bed, for Harry could think up no other reason as to why he wasn't wearing them.

"Professor?" Harry called once more, his voice nearly a whisper as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

The door swung open, startling Harry, and Snape stood in the doorway, glaring down his nose at Harry.


	9. Apologies

Chapter Nine:

Apologies

Harry stood stock still as Snape glowered at him, and after a few moments past, Snape raised a single eyebrow.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape uttered, clearly annoyed. Harry swallowed, trying to wet his parched throat.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry meekly, "For saving me." Snape continued to glower down at Harry, and Harry felt a twinge of arousal; the very same twinge that he had felt as he recalled his encounter with Draco. Harry gulped thickly against a growing pain in his chest, and starred wide-eyed at Snape for several more moments.

"Is that all," Snape said suddenly, "Or is there something else you'd like to tell me, Potter?" Harry couldn't help but think that there truly was something more he wanted to say. It seemed by the way Snape said it, that Harry was forgetting to mention something. Harry furrowed his brow in thought, and Snape waited impatiently, still glaring down at Harry.

Then Harry thought of it. The cutting; Snape must want an apology about the cutting.

"And I'm sorry, sir," Harry said quickly, trying to make up for his slow train of thought. Snape raised an eyebrow again. "I'm sorry that I cut myself," Harry clarified, and Snape heaved a heavy sigh through his nose.

"I think we have a few things to discuss, Mr. Potter," said Snape in a tone Harry had never heard Snape use before. It was a sad tone. Sad and understanding and sympathetic, and all of these emotions were aimed at Harry. It was almost unbelievable. There was much more to Snape then met the eye.


	10. Confessions

Chapter Ten:

Confessions

Harry followed Snape down the hall and into the dully lit parlor room, where the fireplace was the only source of light. There were two chairs on either side of the fireplace, one with a small table next to it. The chairs were wooden with no cushions, and the arms and feet of the chair were carved to look like claws.

Snape sat in the chair with the small table next to it, and Harry sat across from him. The glow from the fireplace gave Snape an eerie quality— more frightening than normal— with half of his face lighten with orange light, and the other half almost black in shadow.

"Potter," Snape said quietly, and Harry felt fearful that he'd done something terribly wrong. "Mr. Malfoy… He— raped you; did he not?" said Snape. Harry shivered, but not out of fear. He nodded, his stomach knotting and coiling in a strange arousal.

"And you," Snape spoke again, the lines on his brow more emphasized in the dim glow, making him look even harsher as he frowned, "You cut yourself?" Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, shame starting to creep its way into his heart.

"I once did the very same thing," Snape muttered, his eyes downcast. Harry's jaw dropped, and he gasped inaudibly. Snape cringed, and looked up at Harry, looking very frightening with his eyes and his frowning mouth in great shadow. "But Potter— Harry; self harm is not the answer. I should know," Snape said forcefully, sincerely, and Harry saw a tear roll down Snape's contorted face. Then he realized that he, too, was crying.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, wiping at his eyes roughly, "I just don't know what else to do. Being in love— it only makes it hurt worse."

Snape starred at Harry for a moment, the tear left untouched, before he asked, "In love, Harry?" Harry nodded and wiped at his face again.

"But I'll stop now," Harry said quietly, "because I think I have a chance. I mean; he had sex with me, right?" Snape looked shocked for a moment, before he scowled harshly.

"In love?" Snape whispered; his voice rough and slightly gravelly, "With Draco Malfoy?"


	11. Truths

Chapter Eleven:

Truths

The two of them sat quietly; Snape glowering harshly and Harry trying his hardest not to fidget. As the silence stretched on, Harry felt compelled to start up talking.

"Is it bad?" Harry asked softly, "My being in love with Draco?" Snape looked awfully mad, and Harry couldn't help but think that something was wrong with the way he was feeling. "Draco isn't all that bad," said Harry, more to himself than to Snape, "He just can't be."

Snape cringed as Harry looked up at him desperately.

"Draco Malfoy is not someone you should be involved with at the moment;" Snape said carefully, "Draco has some troubles… Similar to your self harm issues, only he tends to aim his violence outward and unto others."

Harry pondered over Snape's words for a moment, and then he thought of something strangely sexual.

"Is Draco a sadist, then?" Harry asked, his expression a cross between disgust and devious curiosity.

Snape snorted softly and spat, "I suppose you could say that; though it might be putting it lightly."

"Really?" Harry asked quickly; surprised.

"I won't know for sure until he's older, of course," Snape said bluntly, "Draco was raised in a very contorted family, and his views may be even more twisted than those of his parents." Snape's faced dropped as he spoke of Draco's family, and Harry could not help but inquire about it.

"Was Draco mistreated?" Harry said hesitantly, "And what about you? Were you mistreated, too?" Harry stopped speaking quickly, and he had to swallow several times against the lump in his throat before he could continue. "Is that why you cut yourself?"

Eyes downcast and face contorted, Snape sat for several long moments before he answered Harry.

"Harry," Snape said finally, "Draco… He won't admit to it, but I do think he has been maltreated, is being maltreated." Snape sighed shallowly before he continued, "I'm not entirely sure, but I believe it is his mother who beats him and, if I am correct, she uses _Crucio_ in order to punish him."

Harry gasped and felt more tears roll down his cheeks.

"Why doesn't his father do anything?" Harry asked, "Does he allow it?"

Snape sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Draco's father is rarely home, and Draco is far too proud to admit that he is beaten by his mother."

Harry starred down at the floor, mulling over all that he had been told.

"And what about you?" Harry asked quietly, "Were you beaten, too?"

With a heaving sigh, Snape stood up. He walked over to Harry's chair and kneeled down in front of him, not making eye contact with Harry the whole time.

"When I was a boy," Snape whispered softly, still not looking at Harry, "My father beat me for being different. For being a wizard."

Snape paused for so long that Harry thought that he would not finish, but just when Harry was about to ask why, Snape continued.

"My father was a muggle, while my mother was a witch," Snape said, "But she let him beat me. She was so enamored with him that she could not have cared less."


End file.
